


It don't matter to the sun

by vampiric_mcd



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Angst, Assassins, Knights - Freeform, M/M, protective!knights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-20
Updated: 2010-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiric_mcd/pseuds/vampiric_mcd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The knife rest motionless midair inches away from his chest. Merlin's hand remains flung up – his fingers splayed – protectively. And quite suddenly Arthur knows as he meets Merlin's worried gaze . They've been here before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It don't matter to the sun

_It don't matter to the sun if you go or if you stay.  
No, the sun is gonna rise, gonna rise.  
Shine down on another day.  
There will be tomorrow even if you choose to leave.  
Cause it don't matter to the sun, no, no.  
It matters to me.  
Rosie Thomas_

Arthur has been brought up by the rules and regulations of nobility. He was born a prince and raised to be a king. He has finally become a king-in-waiting and yet it has never been so bittersweet – the knowledge that he is merely waiting for his father to pass his crown to him. And in order to pass that crown, Uther shall have to die. For the first time Arthur has to admit that he wants that day to come – no matter implications or even the notions of another sacrifice on his behalf.

He has sacrificed more than most to be this king behind the king – the successor so ready and able to wear that thrice-damned crown. He has known sacrifice and worn it almost easily – unnoticeable – around his person like one of his flowing cloaks of the purest red velvet.

He likes to think he has worn it well and that he has been quite capable in spite of it. But the truth of the matter is this… never before has the sacrifice been Merlin. And Arthur isn’t sure how much more of this he can take, because despite being the king-in-waiting – he is only still a man. Never before has he felt more human – a man waiting to live his life and turn into dust at the end of all things.

But in order for that life to be worthwhile, Arthur needs Merlin just as he needs to breathe.

_Screaming and fear echoing through the hall loudly. Assassins are always a threat and sometimes they get lucky – sometimes they are that good._

A glint of metal flung at him and Arthur doesn’t have time to see his life flash before his eyes. Only until he does have all the time he could ever want or need. Because blue eyes turn golden quite unexpectedly. The knife rest motionless midair inches away from his chest. Merlin’s hand remains flung up – his fingers splayed – protectively. And quite suddenly Arthur knows as he meets Merlin’s worried gaze .

They’ve been here before.

He stands on the walls, watching Camelot at night. The archers bow and try to leave him in peace as much as possible while still protecting him. He nods to two of his knights, all of which tend to watch over him in shifts – almost as if they are waiting for Arthur to fall apart. He can’t blame any of them for not leaving him alone though. He knows how to appreciate their effort in keeping him alive. He won’t make the same mistake again – not giving due where it is deserved – even if it makes his heart break in remembrance of too large ears and a grin that would stretch for miles.

He closes his eyes as his heart aches fiercely. The mere thought of his… of his _Merlin_ and he is wounded beyond any battle scar.

Sometimes Arthur wonders if Merlin took along his heart when he escaped, because this hurt doesn’t seem to heal with time. He thinks it might never heal. This wound is etched unto his very soul. After all the tournaments and all the battles Arthur has fought in – his heart feels as if it might do him in at any time – without a noticeable scar to show for it. Though perhaps the greatest wounds are those that don’t leave behind a visible scar.

_The King is furious at his obvious and outspoken rebellion._

So, Arthur remains shackled down in the dungeons – waiting for his world to collapse. Wrists and ankles bleeding – having struggled until he collapsed – while Morgana pleaded with him at the door – cried for him – cried for Merlin and perhaps cried for them all.

His voice has given out and Arthur has never wept like he did this night. He lost his pride – threw it to the ground. But begging on his bare knees made no difference for his father. Uther remains first and foremost a king that hates the very notion of magic – good or bad. He doesn’t care that executing Merlin will destroy Arthur as surely as that assassin’s knife would have killed him. But, Uther remains king – he does not become the father Arthur craves and needs and pleads for.

It’s the first time Arthur hates him for it.

When his knights come to free Arthur at first light on the king’s orders– they inform him of Merlin’s escape. Worn down and strung out he meets their worried gazes and carefully hidden guilty faces - **he knows** though he can only pray that Uther doesn’t . He wonders if he can repay them for this once he is king – even while a part of him clamors that he can never completely repay the debt he owes them for saving Merlin.

Uther has developed a nasty cough this past winter.

Arthur knows the time is near. He feels it in his very bones. All of Camelot knows the time has come as well. They are waiting for their king to finally take the crown that is already his. It is merely the protocol and lingering shadow of a son’s love that keep the charade going. Despite hating the king Uther has been, Arthur still tries to love the idea of the father Uther could have been. He knows Merlin won’t begrudge him these last few months, doing what he feels he must. It’s just the king-in-waiting in Arthur. It’s just the son in Arthur. It’s just the man in Arthur. As he faces the empty streets of his Camelot, he whispers softly.

“It won’t be long before you can come home now.”


End file.
